


A Bit of Privacy

by TheCynicalSquid



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: (why is that a tag?), Anal Sex, Book 01: The Way of Kings (Spoilers), Book 02: Words of Radiance, Bottom Kaladin, Boys Kissing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Door Sex, First Time, Hand Jobs, Kaladin (Stormlight Archive) Needs a Hug, Kaladin and Moash are Soulmates, M/M, Mutual Pining, Shameless Smut, Teasing, Top Moash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:29:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28597746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCynicalSquid/pseuds/TheCynicalSquid
Summary: There has always been something between Kaladin and Moash, but constantly dodging Parshendi arrows and sleeping fifty men to one room doesn't exactly encourage relationships.Give a man a full meal and a bit of privacy, though, and there’s no telling what he might do.
Relationships: Kaladin/Moash (Stormlight Archive)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	A Bit of Privacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Faebreath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faebreath/gifts).



> Well, I wrote it. Now stop reading this smut and get on with the Kal/Gaz fic you promised!!!
> 
> This is my first time writing a Stormight fic and I'm not sure how many people ship Kal/Moash. But I believe they are soulmates and I won't hear anything different about my boys!  
> Hope you enjoy :)

It started when the bridge crews were freed and Kal suddenly found himself with an officer’s uniform, and a private room.

Well, if he was being completely honest, it began well before that; glances across the bridge four barracks, holding each other’s eyes for a second too long, a brush of Moash’s hand against his thigh as they sat waiting for Rock’s stew. There had been something in Moash’s eyes, a fire; it had affected Kal in a way he had never experienced, igniting something new.

Then in the chasms, there had been more. When they had gone, alone, together, to scout new paths, Moash’s fingers intertwining with his, and one stolen passionate kiss.

They both pretended that had never happened when they returned to camp. When you were a bridgeman, there just wasn’t the privacy or the time. What was the point in dwelling on what could never be? Not to mention, living every day one step from death didn’t exactly incline someone to form that kind of closeness. Bridge Four was close, yes, but if one of them was lost, there were others to support and grieve with you. When there was only two… well, Kal wasn’t sure he could have survived it.

Give a man a full meal and a bit of privacy, though, and there’s no telling what he might do.  
  


* * *

“Moash, Lopen, you go back to camp, get some rest.” Kal’s voice rang with authority as he marched with his men through the halls of Dalinar’s complex.

“What about you Kal?” Moash asked, ignoring, as he always did, the captain’s insignia Kaladin wore, “You’ve got to rest too.”

Kal sighed, there was no time to rest, not with things the way they were in the war camps. But he could hardly order his men to rest and then work himself to exhaustion, “Fine, I’ll patrol with the other men for an hour and then I’ll meet you back at the barracks.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Moash said. There was a note of something in his voice that made Kaladin turn to glance at him. There was a quirk to Moash’s lips and a glint in his eye which made Kal’s heart stutter in his chest. Moash held his eyes, not looking away, and the fire was back in them, smoldering beneath the surface. A challenge. A promise. Kal’s face flushed despite himself. He tried to form words to reply, but instead ended up blabbering for a moment.

“What’s wrong with the gancho?” Lopen asked, looking at Kaladin with his head skewed ninety degrees to the side, “I thought I was meant to be the odd one?”

Syl zipped down, from where she had been dancing around a gemstone lantern, and reached out an ethereal finger to bop Kaladin’s nose, “I think my human might be broken. Do I need to get a new one?”

Syl’s light wafting in front of Kal’s face tripped his mind back into gear, “Stop looking at me like that Lopen, what are you doing with your head?” He demanded as he turned and propped his spear firmly back on his shoulder.

“Formation, men!” He barked, before marching off down the corridor.

“See you later, Kal.” Moash’s voice drifted from behind, his tone laden with meaning. Kaladin forced himself not to turn and look, though his heart skipped again. He was glad he was marching at the front of the group; no one could see the blush creeping up his neck.

The rest of that hour passed, seemingly uneventfully, though Kal’s mind was churning; running through possibilities, different ways to see that small quirk of an eyebrow, ways to misinterpret hidden meaning in words. That time in the caverns ran through his head again and again, like a song heard in a tavern which sticks in your brain until you feel yourself going mad. The hard, wet rock behind him as Moash’s powerful hands pushed him back. The feeling of Moash’s body as he pinned him there. The strange rush of vulnerability, and at the same time trust, which rushed through him as Moash held him. The feeling of his lips and warm mouth against his. The delicious closeness and abandon of that perfect moment.

He could see it still, in his mind’s eye; the picture of Moash before him, framed by the curling vines and bobbing lifespren of the chasms, perfect, present, his. They hadn’t spoken then, on that perfect day. They had not been ready to voice what they both felt. Or at least Kal hadn’t, perhaps Moash hadn’t said anything because it meant nothing to him? A moment of stolen pleasure in a life devoid of such things. He longed for and feared the answer. He had to know, and it seemed that tonight would be the night.

It was a good thing the watch was uneventful, because Kaladin wasn’t sure how useful he would have been if called to action. His mind was a tangled mess of anticipation and anxiety. He couldn’t stop himself from hurrying back to the barracks, though nervousness nipped at his heels as he went. He was sure he hadn’t mistaken Moash’s words, the twist to them had been clear enough. Hadn’t it? But as he walked, he began to doubt himself, maybe it had been innocent banter? Was he looking for things which weren’t there? Maybe Moash didn’t realise how much Kal longed for him, how often he thought of that one stolen kiss.

He reached the new Bridge Four barracks in record time but stopped before he reached the campfire, with Rock’s stew for the night happily bubbling over it. He was far enough away to avoid the attention of his men. Though, as he watched, one form split from the group, carrying two bowls of steaming food. The figure looked directly at Kaladin. Moash. He met his eyes from across the practice grounds, then turned and strode straight for Kaladin’s door and into his room, closing the door behind him. Well, maybe he hadn’t imagined it then. This seemed a good enough hint, even for Kal.

He made his way over, less hurried now. A nervousness weighed him down and kept him back.

“Ah! Kaladin!” Rock’s voice boomed across the yard, compelling Kaladin to turn from his path over to the fire where the large Horneater tended his pot.

“Moash has already taken your food. He seems to have very important matter to discuss. I think he is waiting in your room. I would not leave the man waiting, it seemed very important. Ha! Airsick Lowlander; what can be so important it makes you miss a good campfire with good men? Anyway, hurry along Captain!”

For once Kaladin did not comment on the way Rock ordered him around like he was the captain. He turned instead, nodding his thanks to Rock, without a word, and started towards his room again, now unable to find an excuse for delaying. He wasn’t sure he could have spoken very clearly at that point, even if his brain had been able to conjure something to say.

Then he heard Rock behind him, speaking reverently to Syl and bowing to her, as he always did. Storm, he’d forgotten Syl. As he moved away from the fire, he looked around and found her drifting to his left, looking at puddles. She zipped over when he called her name.

“Yes?” She asked cocking her head, “You’re being weird today Kal. Weirder than normal, which is saying something.”

“Sorry, Syl, I can’t explain right now, maybe later tonight,” He said those last words with dread. If tonight did in fact go the way he hoped, he really wasn’t sure what he would say to Syl. “But, could you please maybe, go, and do something on your own tonight? Just for a while.”

“Hmmm, I suppose I could, there is this weird guy in Bridge Nine who only wears one shoe, I wanted to go make it stick to the floor some more. But why?”

“I’m sorry, later?” He asked again, willing her to stop asking questions.

“Fine. But you will tell me later. You have to now. Oaths and stuff.” And with that, she zipped away into the night.”

Kal breathed a sigh of relief and started making his way to his room again.

It seemed to take an age to reach it. And then he was there, hand on the latch, lifting it and pushing his way inside. He revealed Moash, standing beside his bed, jacket loose and unbuttoned, two steaming bowls of stew abandoned on the side table.

Kal closed the door behind him, and they were alone. A novel feeling after the crowded confines of the Bridge Four barracks, the noisy campfires and the bustling war camps. Just the two of them, no distractions. Kal met Moash’s eyes from across the small room. The only sound was their breathing. Neither moved, nor spoke a word.

Kal’s anxiety peaked again. What if this wasn’t what he had thought, what if he’d misread the situation entirely. Maybe Moash didn’t feel the same way. How _could_ Moash feel the same way? The same obsession. The same compulsion to gravitate to him whenever they were near. The quickening of his heart whenever Moash glanced his way or happened to touch him. Those dark brooding eyes consumed him from across the room. The hawkish, hard lines of his face hid a depth beneath them. A depth which Kaladin longed to know.

His reverie was cut short as Moash began to move towards him slowly, step by careful step. Kal found himself paralysed, not even able to muster a word. Moash continued his steady advance until he was toe to toe with Kaladin. Their eyes met, level, they were almost exactly the same height, though in that moment Moash felt so much larger to him. Kaladin’s breathing hitched. Moash seemed to take this response as an invitation; he slowly leaned in, bringing his mouth to meet Kal’s.

He gave him every opportunity to move away or stop him, a questioning look to his eyes as he did so. Kal didn’t move a muscle, terrified he would do something to make this stop.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity to Kal, their mouths met. Moash kissed him, tenderly at first, but growing more intense as Kal finally responded, his mind kicking back into action. Kal brought his hands up to press against the back of Moash’s neck and pull him closer. In response, Moash pushed Kal back half a step until he was pressed against the door. He was pinned now, between the hard wood of the door and Moash’s steady form. A perfect reflection of that time in the chasms. Moash moved against him, pushing their bodies closer, his excitement obvious. Kal moved with him, allowing Moash to mould their bodies, pressing into each other, demanding contact.

Moash reached down with one hand and grabbed the bolt of the door, sliding it home with a firm _thump_. Then, his hands moved to rest on Kal’s hips, drawing him in closer to him, pushing him more firmly against the door.

Finally, he broke off the kiss, leaving both of the breathless. Moash quirked a smile.

“Who’d have thought to see the great Kaladin Stormblessed so breathless and flushed?” He asked, in a mocking tone.

Kal’s brow furrowed at that and he opened his mouth to retort. Moash silenced him with another kiss. Kaladin melted into it, never wanting the moment to end, his words forgotten.

“I think I’m the only one who truly sees you Kal,” Moash said as he pulled away again, “who sees the _real_ you, the human.” As he spoke, his mouth moved down to Kal’s throat, where he began tracing kisses between words.

“I see the way you look at me, when everyone else is laughing around the fire and you sit there, looking so thoughtful and solemn. A true picture of the brooding hero.” Moash tilted his face up, to trail kisses along Kal’s jaw, eliciting a sound halfway between a sigh and a moan from Kal’s lips. “Are you thinking about me then? Thinking about that time in the chasms?”

Moash had worked his way up to Kal’s ear lobe. He kissed and ran his teeth gently over the sensitive flesh there, tugging on it, sending shivers through Kal.

“I think about that all the time. How much it made me want you. Do you think about it Kal? Do you think about me?”

“Yes.” Kal whispered, overcome.

Moash smirked again, “Good.”

His hands began roving over Kaladin’s body, his hips, his chest. They settled on his ass, grabbing the flesh there and making Kaladin yelp slightly in surprise. But then he melted back into Moash’s touch just as quickly.

“You love being like this don’t you Kal? I knew that day in the chasms, when I pinned you to that wall. I could see how you liked it. The big Captain Kaladin. Always in charge. Always in control. But you love this don’t you? You love me holding you here, leading things. I waited. Ever since you got this fancy private room. I waited to see if you would invite me in. But when you didn’t, I decided I’d best take the reins. Seems like that’s what you wanted all along.” He whispered these words into Kaladin’s ear before burying his face into Kal’s neck, his tongue running across his skin.

Kal couldn’t help the moan this elicited from him. His hands began to rove over Moash’s body, uncertain where to rest. He traced the hard square lines of his hips, ran his hands over his ass and up his back and down again. He didn’t know what he wanted, but Moash clearly did. He grabbed Kaladin’s arms and pushed them up, until they were resting on his shoulders, Kal’s hands intertwined behind his head.

He squeezed Kaladin’s ass again, pulling him forwards, into his body. Moash rumbled deep in his chest. A sound akin to a purr or a growl. Kaladin could feel himself growing more and more aroused. The feeling of Moash’s hands on him, their bodies together, after so long thinking and imagining, was overwhelming. His head was spinning, he wanted _more_.

“Moash.” He said, unable to think of anything else to say.

Moash’s hands moved down to the buttons of Kaladin’s jacket and deftly began to undo them.

“Yes.” Moash purred, nuzzling into Kal’s neck as he pushed his jacket back and began on his shirt, Kal tilting his head back to expose his throat more to Moash’s kisses, “Say my name again.” Moash demanded.

“Moash.” Kal responded, his voice breathy as Moash sucked kisses into the skin of his neck.

Moash moved further down, to Kal’s now exposed chest, his tongue finding it’s way to his nipples, circling around them. Kal gasped, he had certainly never been touched like that before. It was electric, sending thrills of pleasure into him. Moash did not seem as inexperienced as Kal, knowing the exact things to do with his mouth and hands to wring moans from him.

Moash laughed, “So sensitive already? How are you going to cope with what comes next? It’s like you’ve never done this before.” He must have noticed a change in Kal’s breathing or a stiffening of his posture then, because he stopped tormenting his nipples to look up at him and see the expression on his face. Uncertainty, verging on shame.

“Oh.” Moash said, clearly understanding, “Ever? With anyone?” He asked, no judgement in his voice.

Kal simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His mind flooded with anxieties again; they had been cast aside with the sweetness of Moash’s touches and his obvious interest in him. But now they came rushing back. Moash wouldn’t want him.

All soldiers visited brothels, but never Kal. Whenever he had come close, his father’s stern voice had sounded in the back of his mind, admonishing such practices. And if hearing his father’s voice in his head wasn’t enough of a turn off, the lists of sexually transmitted diseases he had forced Kal to memorise as part of his training sealed the deal. Moash would want someone more experienced than him. It would be difficult to find someone _less_ experienced. Shame flooded through him. He was a fool.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, hands going for the buttons of his jacket, trying to retain some of his dignity. Moash’s hands stopped him. He placed a hand on Kal’s chest, over his heart, preventing him from refastening his buttons.

“Sorry for what?” He asked, tone genuinely confused.

Kal couldn’t form his words into a coherent reason; just an overwhelming knowledge that he wasn’t good enough.

“I’ll go easy on you.” Moash said, his self-confident smirk returning. “As long as,” He continued, tone becoming serious, “you want this? We can slow down.”

Kal’s heart swelled with Moash’s concern for his wellbeing. And it seemed he did want him, he didn’t care that Kal wasn’t experienced. _Unless he just pities you_ , a small voice in his head accused. But Moash’s warm hand over his heart gave Kal the strength to push that poisonous thought away.

He met Moash’s eyes, “I want this.”

“Good,” Moash said, smiling and returning his attention to running kisses along Kal’s well defined abs, “Because I want it too.”

Moash moved his hands up to push Kal’s shirt and jacket off. They fell to the floor in a heap. He ran his hands over Kal’s bare shoulders, the heat of his touch sending waves of warm pleasure through him. He found Moash’s mouth again with his own and demanded more kisses; feeling a desire to become more involved in what was happening. Moash seemed more than happy to oblige him.

As they continued to kiss, Moash’s hands travelled down to Kal’s belt. He pulled away from Kal for a second, looking at him with a quirk of his brow. Kal nodded his consent and Moash unbuckled it with one swift movement and pulled it free. He moved back in and slid his hands under the now looser fabric, running them over the tops of Kal’s thighs and round to cup his ass, obviously relishing the little gasps Kal couldn’t help but make when he touched him there.

As Moash did this, Kal moved his hands up to begin working on the ties of Moash’s shirt, his jacket already undone. He always was more relaxed with his uniform than Kal, not that Kal wasted much attention thinking about that now. Kal felt with his rapidly depleting clothing, he needed to level the playing field somewhat, so he wasted no time in pushing Moash’s jacket off his shoulders and pulling his shirt over his head, leaving them both bare chested. The feeling of Moash’s hot bare chest against his own was intoxicating.

He was fully aroused now and could tell that Moash was in a similar state. His hands were becoming more frantic over Kal’s body and his kisses had a desperation to them as he bestowed them on Kal’s exposed neck, over his collarbone and shoulders. While Kal was distracted with the feeling of Moash’s lips on him, Moash pushed on the waistband of Kal’s trousers until they fell to the floor, leaving Kal standing in his small clothes.

Moash quirked one sly smile at Kal before unceremoniously pushing those away too. Kal couldn’t bring himself to mind at that moment, as Moash’s hand immediately went to his cock. And his skills with his hands were… impressive.

Soon, Kal had melted into Moash’s clever touch, capable only of the occasional moan as his arousal built and grew.

“Storms, Kal, I need you. Can I?” Moash asked, his breathing heavy.

“Yes, please, do it.” He said, his voice a breathy whisper.

Moash took his hands off Kal’s body for a second, to deal with his breeches, which almost elicited a whine from Kal. He didn’t have the presence of mind or the experience to know what Moash was doing, and he was pressed too close, one of Moash’s hands still on his chest, to see. It seemed to take an age for Moash to sort whatever he was sorting. But then he was back, his own body now as bare as Kal’s.

Moash grabbed him around the waist and hefted him up, so that his back was pressed against the door, which took some of his weight. He automatically wrapped his legs around Moash’s body, clinging on, entwined with him in an incredibly satisfying way.

“Are you ready?” Moash asked. He had manoeuvred his body, lining himself up with Kal.

“Yes.” He said, his voice edged with desperation. He had only a vague idea of what he was asking for, but as Moash moved and pushed into him, his eyes flared open and he gasped, his nails digging into Moash’s shoulder. He had certainly never felt anything like _that_ before.

“Okay?” Moash asked, voice laced with his own need now.

“Yes,” Kal choked out, overwhelmed but not wanting it to stop. He was suddenly very glad that Moash had more experience than him; it seemed like this might be a difficult thing to achieve with two novices. Difficult and less pleasurable than what Kal was experiencing now.

“I know it’s not your speciality but try and relax Kal.” Moash said, breathless, but still smirking.

Moash sank a little deeper before pulling out again, settling into a rhythm, with Kal pressed there against the door. Kal tried to relax into it and the steady rhythm helped. He was so taken in by the strange sheer pleasure of it that he didn’t even stop to think about the possibility that people might hear; they were rattling the door a little. Moash changed his angle slightly and hit a spot Kal had not even known existed. Kal didn’t think many coherent thoughts for a while.

Soon, Moash’s pace was speeding up, becoming more desperate, his thrusts erratic. And Kal could feel himself getting close as well, the stimulation from being trapped between their bodies enough.

The peak was slowly building and then suddenly, it was there. Moash reached it at the same moment and managed to muffle their cries, which would surely have been heard by half the war camp, by capturing Kal’s mouth in a deep and desperate kiss.

Their bodies shocked together, Moash’s hips jerking roughly a few more times before stopping, leaving them both panting.

Kal came down slowly; gasping and shaking a little, as Moash kept him pressed against the wall, recovering his own sensibilities. Eventually Moash shifted, lifting Kal up slightly and then setting him down on the floor. He picked up his shirt from where it lay, discarded at their feet, and proceeded to clean them both up.

At an inquiring look from Kal, Moash said, a little gruffly, “Needed washing anyway, now I can’t put it off.”

After than was done, Moash led Kal, who was still a little shaky on his legs, over to the bed. They both collapsed into it. Moash settled behind Kal, twining their legs together and running his hands gently over the hard lines of Kal’s body.

As the sweet afterglow faded and Kal’s mind recovered from the gentle haze he had been enjoying, unwanted thoughts began to bubble up again. He had so much to do; requisition orders needed to be completed by the morning, he had to see about securing a proper practice ground for the troops, he’d promised he would stop by the campfires of Bridge Six and Eight; Teft was having trouble with them. More and more things piled up and he felt his body moving before he’d decided to, going to get up and find his clothes.

“Going somewhere?” Moash enquired from behind him.

“I’ve got so much to do, the orders and Bridge Six and the troublemakers in Eight and I can’t-” Moash cut off his rambling by gently taking his arm and pulling him back down onto the bed. Kal couldn’t help but follow Moash’s lead.

“Shh,” Moash commanded, running his fingers through Kal’s hair, “you can leave it all alone for a little while longer, Kal. Just enjoy the moment.”

Kal sighed and tried to push his thoughts away, to no avail. More tasks and responsibilities popped into his head and crowded there. Then, Moash used one of his hands to tilt Kal’s face to the side and caught his mouth in a tender kiss. That did the job; all thoughts of requisition orders and soldier morale fled from his mind.

They settled again on the bed, Moash holding him and stroking his fingers over his body, in his hair, lulling Kal into a trance like peace. They talked as well; said things they had never dared say to one another before. Truths and dreams and longing. It was too sweet. Kal was sure it must be a dream.

A while later, after Kal had fallen into a contented doze, Moash finally rose. He put his clothes back on, buttoning up his jacket all the way so no one would see his lack of shirt. Kal roused himself enough to get up, throw on some clothes, and open the door for him. Just before he opened it, Moash pulled him in for one final kiss.

“Until next time, Captain,” He promised, kissing Kal’s nose in an intimately familiar gesture. Then he strode out of the door, as though it had hidden them discussing some important business all this time, rather than using it to fuck against. Kal moved back to the bed and sat down, letting out a long breath, unable to keep a smile from creeping across his face.

Syl flitted down from her perch, where she had been hiding above a rafter of the ceiling. She cocked her head as she settled in front of Kal, and innocently asked, “Oh, so is _that_ how baby humans are made? Does it always involve making such weird noises?”


End file.
